


Or Not

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [57]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, phone sex AU."</p><p>John Sheppard and Rodney McKay are roommates with Cam Mitchell, who's never there, and Evan Lorne, a phone sex worker. Awkward and sexy times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Not

John was startled out of a linear algebra problem by a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in."  
  
The door inched open, and his unfairly hot roommate Rodney (all of his roommates were unfairly hot) poked his head into the room.  
  
"Hey, can I come study in here?"  
  
John glanced around at the room, which was neat but also barely bigger than a monk's cell, with a desk and a bed and a closet all crammed into a ten by fourteen space. He'd managed to fit a mini fridge and microwave under the desk, but there wasn't a lot of room, and he liked to spread out while he worked, so he had his textbooks and binders strewn across his bed.  
  
"Sure, if you think you can find space."  
  
"Thanks." Rodney sat down at the desk with his textbooks and binders. "You shouldn't study on your bed, you know. That'll make it hard to sleep. Beds should be for sleeping and sex only."  
  
Rodney and bed and sex all in one sentence was a bit too much for John's overworked brain to handle. He shifted his binder on his lap as subtly as he could.  
  
"Well, I dream of math anyway, so -"  
  
Rodney rolled his shoulders (he had great shoulders). "I know how that goes."  
  
"So, no offense, but why my room? Usually you take over the couch."  
  
"Evan's on a call," Rodney said.  
  
John raised his eyebrows. "In the den?"  
  
"He's working on a wide landscape for his oils class," Rodney said, "and he needed space to spread out and put down the initial pencil lines."  
  
John and Rodney had two other roommates, Evan and Cam. Cam was an engineering major and seemed to spend most of his time in the engineering lab finding new ways to attempt to blow himself up. John was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times he'd actually seen Cam. Evan was an art major who was also an independent contractor for some 1-900 business. Usually he took calls in his room, but sometimes his artwork required more space.  
  
"Right," John said.   
  
"Not that I have anything against Evan being a sex worker," Rodney said hastily. "It's just -"  
  
"Weird," John said, and Rodney nodded. Evan had been up-front about his job before they'd moved in. It offered him flexible hours and really good cash, and it wasn't like he was bringing potentially dangerous strangers back to their apartment, so John didn't mind. But the first time Evan had come wandering out of his room with his headset on, narrating a frankly filthy scenario about going down on a woman, complete with theatrical moans, and microwaved himself a few frozen burritos, had been downright bizarre. He'd even nodded and smiled at John between sentences, then wandered back into his room with the burritos.  
  
John had seen Evan grading drawing 101 assignments while on a call, eyeing shading exercises of an apple critically while encouraging some guy to jerk himself off faster, and it was - a bit of a cognitive dissonance, really. Evan hadn't looked turned on at all, looked frankly bored with some of the calls, but the things he was saying and the way his voice was pitched made John hot under the collar.

"I don't know how he does it," Rodney said. "I mean - does he hate sex, do you think?"  
  
"You'd have to ask him," John said, because he was not about to contemplate the sex life of one of his hot roommates with his hottest roommate.  
  
"He's pretty imaginative, though, I'll give him that," Rodney continued.  
  
John wondered if there was a polite well to tell Rodney to put up or shut up.  
  
Rodney glanced at John. "What are you working on?"  
  
John tilted up his textbook so Rodney could see.  
  
Rodney's eyes lit up. "Hey, I'm in that class, too."  
  
"I haven't seen you there. I'd remember if you were." Too late, John realized how stalker-ish that sounded.  
  
"Different section, different professor," Rodney said. "But we could work on it together, right?"  
  
"Sure," John said, because he was bad at thinking of consequences, and then Rodney said, "Scoot over, I'll join you."  
  
Oh no. Rodney on John's bed.  
  
"I thought you said you shouldn't study on a bed." But John slid aside anyway, keeping his binder firmly on his lap.  
  
"It's not my bed," Rodney said. "And it's not like I'm sleeping here any time soon."  
  
"You could," John said, and his senses had completely taken leave of him, hadn't they?  
  
Rodney, who'd just sat down beside him, went still. "John?"  
  
He ducked his head, blushing fiercely. "Sorry, I -"  
  
"John, do you want to sleep with me?"  
  
Rodney was blunt and fierce and honest. Ninety-nine percent of the time, John appreciated that. Right now he kind of wanted to disappear forever.  
  
"John?" Rodney pressed.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is that a yes you want to sleep with me or just a yes you're answering to my saying your name?"  
  
John swallowed hard. Rodney turned to face him fully, blue eyes bright and intense. He cocked his head.  
  
"Imagine that. The charming John Sheppard, at a loss for words. I can't tell if you're horrified or -"  
  
And John realized the brittle glittering in Rodney's eyes was a mixture of hurt and want.  
  
No. John couldn't hurt Rodney, wouldn't dare.  
  
So he leaned in and kissed Rodney.  
  
Rodney kissed him back.  
  
The binders and textbooks hit the floor with a thump that made John wince, but then Rodney was pressed against him from shoulder to hip to knee, and John couldn't think anymore.  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Hey," Evan said, "I'm all done if you want the couch back."  
  
Rodney slid a hand up John's shirt, imitated something he'd heard Evan describe on a call once, and John groaned.  
  
Evan said, "Or not."


End file.
